Starlight Descends - 4
Base of the Finger
How was she supposed to explain that this was a dog Ye Qingman got as a gift from ex‑boyfriend? Before the breakup, she called it "Husband." After the breakup, it became "Son."
Almost two weeks had passed since it was renamed, yet the stupid thing still had absolutely no self-awareness. What a dumb dog.
Qi Yao felt a wave of despair. Her hand disappeared into the cuff of her hanging sleeve, curling into a tight fist, while her toes instinctively dug into the floor.
Yu Jiashu paused for only a moment before realizing she was probably calling the dog. He lowered his eyes and reached down to stroke its head.
The German Shepherd, to its credit, finally acknowledged its true lineage. The moment Qi Yao called it by that name, it bounded over with tail wagging, circled her ankles twice, then boldly grabbed Yu Jiashu’s pant leg and started pulling him away.
Qi Yao was about to intervene when she heard Yu Jiashu give a low laugh. Her body froze.
Disarming.
That was her first thought.
His low voice drifted through the air and into her ears, seeming to carry the faintest thread of electricity that sent a tingling sensation racing up the back of her neck.
Qi Yao pressed her lips together and curled her fingers inward, wondering if the rose-colored glasses she wore for this man were getting a little too thick.
“Whoa, holy crap? What happened to you?” Da Bai blurted out in alarm.
She looked up to see the buzz-cut guy from yesterday twisting a tissue into strips and stuffing them into his nostril. The skin beneath his nose was slightly red, smeared with blood he hadn’t managed to wipe completely clean.
When he noticed her looking, Zhou Qi’s face turned even redder, the flush spreading all the way down to his neck. The same mouth that had been trading barbs five minutes ago was now completely useless. His gaze drifted awkwardly downward, and he ended up shoving both tissue strips into the same nostril.
Qi Yao: “…”
By now, Yu Jiashu had calmed the dog down. The German Shepherd trotted back to Qi Yao and flopped down at her feet, tongue hanging out.
What a goof. Just like Ye Qingman.
She stared at the dumb dog and and grumbled internally.
Yu Jiashu rose to his feet, the crisp scent of mint drifting on the breeze, a few strands of it slipping into her nose.
The man handed over the leash, his well-defined, sinewy hand wrapped around the top. His wrist bone protruded beneath his lean wrist, and his sleeve had slipped down to reveal part of his slender yet powerful forearm.
The pale mole on his finger swayed before her eyes.
Qi Yao fell silent for a moment before reaching out to take the leash.
She had already been extremely careful, yet her fingertip still brushed lightly against his fingers.
Soft, slightly cool, with clear ridges.
Like an ocean she could never reach.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Yu Jiashu gave a quiet hum, replying with a nonchalant “No problem” before withdrawing his hand and sitting back down. His sleeve fell into place again, covering the prominent bone of his wrist.
Qi Yao gave it one last glance, then turned and walked back with the leash.
This is fine, she told herself.
A sentence or two is already more than she’d had in ten years. One should know how to be content.
“Wait, hang on.”
Qi Yao stopped almost instantly and turned around.
There was no hesitation, so quick that it felt as though she had been waiting for him to say those words all along.
Noticing this detail, Yu Jiashu raised an eyebrow, his fingers tapping a loose rhythm against his beer can.
The buzz-cut guy rubbed the back of his head and stammered, two strips of tissue still stuffed up his nose, his face red enough to drip blood.
“Yao-mei, hello… I really like you. I’ve liked you for years.”
“It’s true. The kid was watching your drama while he was eating just now! He buys all your magazines, and takes up office space with your merch,” Da Bai chimed in.
Zhou Qi flushed even harder, he was practically stuttering now. “I did all of that because I wanted to. It’s really nothing. I just… could I get an autograph?”
“Sure.” The bright light in Qi Yao’s eyes slowly dimmed, replaced by a gentle smile as she waited for him to borrow a black marker from the stall owner.
“Here?” She pointed the pen at Zhou Qi’s shoulder, looking a little surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Zhou Qi nodded, scratching his head shyly. “Paper doesn’t keep well. And this is more original.”
Qi Yao said nothing more. She lightly steadied a hand against his shoulder, rose slightly onto her toes, and carefully signed her name across the white T-shirt.
“Damn, that is pretty.” Da Bai took a long pull of his beer, squinting at the two people in the distance. “She’s even prettier in person than she is in the drama. All fresh and glowing. No wonder she made it big.”
Yu Jiashu idly fiddled with his Bluetooth earbuds, not responding. After a moment, he said, "She looks familiar.”
“Oh, get out of here! Even if the sky came crashing down, you still wouldn’t know a female celebrity. The kid’s been going on about her in front of you for ages, and you never once remembered her.” Da Bai clicked his tongue. When Zhou Qi came back, he curiously grabbed at his shirt. “Let me see. Let me see.”
“Back off!” Zhou Qi shielded his shirt and dodged, reverting to his usual irritable little brother self. “You’re not worthy!”
“Hey, you little brat.” Da Bai made a show of rolling up his sleeves.
And just like that, they were bickering again.
Yu Jiashu made no comment. He tapped open a game on his phone and took a sip of water when the loading screen played, and let his gaze drift, casually and absently, to the signature on Zhou Qi’s shoulder.
The handwriting was neat and elegant, stylish yet legible.
Just like her. Gentle, soft, never crossing the line.
The only unusual thing was the prominent horizontal stroke beneath the two characters. It curved abruptly at the end, followed by a tiny Arabic numeral “1.”
Probably 71.
(¹ A wordplay on Qi Yao's name. Qi (七) = 7, Yao (瑶) = 1)
Yu Jiashu paid it little attention and lowered his eyes, controlling his character as it emerged from the fountain.
Then suddenly, like lightning, something flashed at the edge of his mind.
He paused and looked up.
His fingers tapped twice against the tabletop, making two soft knocks. Da Bai and Zhou Qi turned to look at him.
After a moment, he said to the young man in the white T-shirt,
“Let me see.”
***
When Qi Yao got home, she set up the German Shepherd’s bed and arranged all its food and supplies by the entrance.
The dog was surprisingly well-behaved once it got home, lying on the soft mat and gazing up at her with round, imploring eyes. Qi Yao lost all her temper at once. She stroked its ears and head, then finally decided on one small act of revenge. From now on, she would call it Laifu.
It was another night of chaotic dreams.
The resident across the hall seemed to be moving in. In the dead of night, the sounds of furniture being dragged across the floor kept coming, followed by the elevator doors opening and closing as people went back and forth. The noise wasn't particularly loud, but her sleep was simply too restless.
Amid the jumble of sounds, she felt as though she were floating in midair, drifting wherever the monsoon carried her, caught in a fragmented dream.
The first time she stood at the gates of C City No. 1 High School, she was fifteen, small and thin, standing there for a long while as she stared at the bustling crowd surging past her, awkwardly and anxiously clutching the corner of her clothes.
The sunlight was blazing, bright enough to make her dizzy. In the blink of an eye, it became the cold fluorescent lights of a hospital corridor.
At sixteen, she stood outside a hospital room. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the air. The ECG line was flat, the machine beeping. She just stood there blankly, her heart shattered beyond feeling, yet not a single tear would fall.
Then everything shifted again, it was the eve of the college entrance examination. During the final evening study session, she sat by the window in the second-to-last row, writing the final letter one stroke at a time. Under cover of darkness, she passed him without a word and quietly tucked it into the side of his schoolbag.
She was eighteen then, standing under moonlight, telling herself: After this, don’t think about him anymore.
Qi Yao jolted awake from the dream. She stared blankly at the white ceiling for a moment, her encounter with him the past two days scrolling behind her eyes.
Him in a white shirt and black pants, holding an iced Americano, turning back as if in response to her call.
Him in a barbecue stall, long legs folded, scratching a dog under the chin. The bone of his wrist exposed beneath the slipping cuff of his black hoodie.
Some things had been buried so well, even she had managed to fool herself into believing they were gone. Then, without warning, the fuse had been lit, and fireworks exploded in her mind with a series of loud bursts, dazzling for one brilliant moment before leaving nothing but ashes behind.
That last wish of her youth, it seemed, she still hadn't kept it.
The wall clock glowed clearly in the darkness, showing four in the morning.
Occasional car horns sounded in the distance, abrupt and brief, quickly pulling her back to reality.
Without hope of falling asleep again, she simply got up and turned on her computer.
The screen cast a pale light over her face.
X-11 Series Endorsement reports
Generally speaking, when a brand selects an ambassador, the company conducts careful internal discussions. Taking into account the brand’s current objectives and market position, it evaluates candidates based on their public image, compatibility with the brand, influence, potential, and level of risk. The team drafted potential ambassadors proposals, and senior management would make the final decision.
Because an ambassador’s image is closely tied to the brand’s own image, and the fees involved are substantial, most brands are very cautious in their selection, they go through layers of discussion and screening, and probably never even put third- or fourth-tier artists outside the initial shortlist into consideration.
Fengxing was different.
Qi Yao scrolled through the materials her assistant had sent.
Since its founding, Fengxing had prized innovation and pushing boundaries above all else. That philosophy ran through every level of the company, and it reflected on how they chose their spokespersons.
For every product, Fengxing would release only a rough profile, a general image of their ideal spokesperson to the public. Everything else was left to interested celebrity teams.
It was essentially a system where entertainers would submit their résumés to Fengxing, and the best portfolio was chosen. Sometimes the artist teams even designed their own campaign plans.
If a small company tried to do things this way, it would have gone under long ago. Fortunately, Fengxing genuinely had the capital to back it up.
Many A-list stars would submit their applications, but even them weren’t guaranteed a callback.
The industry had experienced this firsthand when Ye Qingman, a web-drama actress in her twenties, managed to secure the AY series.
A technology company wanted innovation and foresight.
Overall, Qi Yao still had a chance. Qiu Lang wouldn't have given her this task otherwise.
The chance just wasn’t big.
She curled up in the study chair with a blanket wrapped around her knees. In the faint light of dawn, she carefully read through Fengxing’s history and their executives' interview videos.
As the hands of the clock reached eight, the city gradually awakened, traffic flowing through the streets as waves of noise rose all around.
The German Shepherd had woken up too, circling restlessly beneath her chair.
Qi Yao filled its bowl with kibble, and while it ate, she quickly changed into a white shirt and black pants, pulled a cap over her head, clipped on the leash, and took the dog downstairs to buy breakfast.
The heavy black security door opened quietly, letting in the bustling sounds of the city.
The door across the hall was slightly ajar. People seemed to be chatting in the living room, a few male voices vaguely drift out. Cardboard boxes were scattered near the entrance.
Qi Yao wasn’t one to eavesdrop. She stepped around the boxes, went downstairs to buy a coffee, and stopped by the supermarket to pick up some daily necessities.
The German Shepherd walked elegantly and regally beside her the entire way, showing not the slightest sign of the wild sprinting usually associated with large dogs. The tension in Qi Yao’s heart finally eased.
That was, until she pressed the button for the eighteenth floor again. The moment the elevator doors opened, the rich aroma of grilled meat wafted toward them, and the aristocratic dog finally made a move.
“…Hey!”
Qi Yao was caught off guard. The leash slipped from her hand. The German Shepherd shot out of the elevator in a single bound, shoved open the half-closed door opposite with its front paws, and charged straight inside.
Leaving behind nothing but a magnificent retreating silhouette.
And a trailing leash, bouncing wildly in his wake.
Qi Yao: “…”
The first day her new neighbors moved in, and their home had already been invaded by a stranger's dog.
She sighed, instinctively tugged down the brim of her cap, reached out, and knocked on the door, her voice soft. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry to bother you…”
The security door swung open with her knock, revealing a living room done in shades of gray and black.
Large cardboard boxes were scattered around, most of them already empty. The place was nearly finished being unpacked.
Several bottles of alcohol sat on the bar, the coffee table was low to the ground. The conversation seemed to stop at the arrival of the woman and dog, leaving only the background sound effects of a game playing on the television.
The man in black-framed glasses stood by the dining table with a pair of tongs in hand. Meat sizzled on the electric grill. It had burned, but he had forgotten to turn it over.
The buzz-cut guy sat on the sofa, holding a Switch controller in one hand and a toothbrush in the other, white foam clinging to the corner of his mouth. He twisted around, staring in shock as his movement froze.
“…Y‑Yao‑mei?”
With everyone looking at her, the one person who wasn’t, stood out immediately.
Or rather, he was conspicuous enough all on his own.
The man sat loosely on the sofa, leaning forward with his elbows braced against his knees. His long, lean legs were spread apart. His slender, bony hands held the black controller, fingers moving with effortless ease.
His lashes were lowered, his expression focused, just like with everything else he did.
On the screen, the boss’s health bar slowly dwindled. Even without his teammates, the Shy Spirit King let out one final roar before the victory screen appeared.
Yu Jiashu tossed the controller aside without much thought and stood up. He rolled his head slightly, lifted a hand to squeeze the back of his neck, then lowered his eyes and noticed the German Shepherd rubbing itself against his feet.
He paused for two second, then looked up.
The young woman stood awkwardly in the doorway. Only the lower half of her face was visible, lips slightly parted, peach-blossom eyes widened in shock. She looked no less startled than the other two.
Her hair was soft and smooth, flattened beneath the baseball cap. A few strands stuck up here and there, not messy so much as lively.
After a moment, the man raised one eyebrow, casual and languid.
“What a coincidence. We keep running into…”
The clever dog was still tugging at his trouser leg, its fluffy tail wagging happily.
His gaze dropped, expression turning faintly peculiar as he enunciated the words softly.
“Your husband?”
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